In which England and America just have bad ideas, period
by SamuraiSal1
Summary: Some things were just bad ideas. Like staying up late and playing video-games the night before a Conference or writing up your notes while sugar-high. And then there were really bad ideas. Like getting into an argument in the middle of a meeting. But sometimes, just maybe, bad ideas might actually be really, really good ones in disguise. USxUK
1. This isn't what I planned,

Some things were just bad ideas. Like staying up late and playing video-games the night before a Conference or writing up your notes while sugar-high. Or hiding out at Hungary's house when her, Japan and France are there—seriously, does anyone else know how many levels of blackmail she has on everyone? Or agreeing to go with one of the Nordics to get coffee, since they get weirdly disappointed in good ol' American coffee. Or agreeing to share a room with France or Russia. Or Prussia, but that's only counting the times when it's just him and me in a room, because when anyone else is there we team up to prank them and that's just awesome.

But yeah, some things were just really, really bad ideas. This was one of them.

And if I'd known what was going to happen, I probably wouldn't have opened my mouth. Which is probably saying something since I almost never monitor the things I say or do.

Anyways.

Here's a play-by-play of what happened yesterday.

I came in right on time to the meeting, complete with Germany's totally false accusation of me being "Late!" and my totally fantastic comeback of, "A wizard is never late, he arrives exactly when he means to," with England totally snickering underneath that scowl of his.

Germany glared at me and I sat down, totally unaffected by it—that shiver was because I was cold, alright?—and finally he just told everyone to finish up what they were doing.

I realized, sort of late, that I was sitting by England. He didn't look super-happy to see me, though. It's weird, he always pretends that he hates me—but whatever, it's not like it bothers me. Anymore. Not that it ever did, or ever still would. I mean sometimes it sucks seeing him always shoot down my ideas and stuff but I don't mind so much anymore, obviously, and it's not like Canada sometimes has to try and cheer me up about it or anything. Because it really, really doesn't affect me, like, at all.

Apparently Japan was doing a presentation when I walked in. I hadn't realized he was the host. I mean, why else would he have been doing everything so early? But whatever.

I took out my notes and started writing things down.

Well, started to anyways. I got about five lines in before I got bored and started doodling. Someone jabbed me in the ribs, though—totally screwing up my picture of Captain America, can you believe the nerve?—and I glanced up.

"Uh, yeah?" I asked England, confused as to why he'd want to do that. Not that it hurt.

"Pay attention, you git," England hissed at me, like I was supposed to be quiet or something. "Your presentation starts after Russia finishes."

I laughed a little. "Uhmmm… Pretty sure I'm not supposed to present today, bud."

"What are you talking about? You've been rambling all month about how 'amazing' your presentation is going to be today," England said with a huff. "Surely you're not backing out now?"

"I remember, like, none of that. Seriously, dude, friends don't mess with friends." I frowned. Had I really?

"Well, it doesn't really matter, I suppose," England said with a sort of mean look on his face. It took me a moment to realize he was smirking at me. "It would have been awful anyways."

"That's—that's not true," I protested. "It would've been awesome and you know it!"

"Don't say 'would have', it makes it sound like you aren't going to do it after all," England said.

"Well I don't want to now," I said with what was totally not a pout. "You always make fun of what I do! Why would I wanna present at all if you're just gonna insult me?"

England looked surprised. I don't really know why, I mean, he always does, or maybe he just didn't realize? 'Cause I think it'd be pretty hard not to realize something like that. He does it, like, all the time. It totally sucks. But it's not like it bothers me!

"What?" I finally asked. It was sort of weird to see him staring at me.

"You—I don't make fun of you!" He protested, but I was kind of thinking that this was some new sort of B-S or whatever. Because, I mean, he always does it.

"Uhm, yeah, you kind of do."

"I don't!" England said, louder.

"You do! _All the time_!" I said, getting louder too, because that's just how arguments work. "And, I mean, it's not like it bothers me or whatever, but it's kind of annoying, y'know." I gave a totally-convincing shrug but it looked like he didn't believe me for some odd reason. I don't know why. But—it's not like I was _faking_ 'non-chalance' or whatever they call it. It was totally genuine. It didn't care at all what he called me or how he insulted me or anything. Y'know, hero's emotional strength or whatever. It's cool.

"I do _not_!" England shouted, then quieter, continued, "If I did, I'd be a complete arse! Honestly, trying to make me feel like some ill-tempered, mean-spirited old hag…"

"Uhm, I never told you to feel like that so if you do it's totally on you," I pointed out.

At this point I totally didn't understand why we were still talking about this. I mean, seriously, I didn't want to talk about something like this in front of everyone. Not—not that any of it was true, of course.

"He has a point," France quipped from the side-lines.

I think England and I realized, like, at the same time, that everyone could hear what we were saying. And that Russia was at the Podium and staring at us as if we were… uh, 'fascinating'. And let me tell you something, you do _not_ want to be considered 'fascinating' by someone like Russia. Bad, bad, _very bad_ idea, my friend.

"No, do continue, comrade," Russia said childishly, smiling that insanely creepy smile. "I wish to hear this resolved, as does everyone else, da?"

England turned bright red. "I—This is a private matter, and you'd do well to remember that," he snapped.

"You made it public when you started screaming at eachother," Germany said in his typical 'no-nonsense' tone. It totally sucked because we weren't screaming at eachother anyways, we were just saying things with slightly raised voices, is all.

Trust me, if they wanted to see 'screaming at eachother', we would be able to. Except my throat would totally hurt afterwards because the last time we shouted that loudly we sort of had a, y'know, major war between us and all. But yeah—_that_ was a screaming match. Not this sissy argument.

"Oh, but monsieur _Allemagne_," France said in his typical 'I'm flirting with you but you can't do anything to stop me' voice. The 'if no one interferes, I'll ditch my clothes as usual' voice. In other words the voice he used when he was being a total creeper. Yikes. "Can't you see they're upset at our interrupted because they were going to kiss?"

There was an awkward pause in the meeting room, before—I swear—every nation in there (except England and me, of course) just shrugged and agreed, in each of their languages.

The only one who didn't agree verbally was Germany, and even he looked oddly passive.

"E—Excuse me?!" England shouted.

I was just about as embarrassed but I think I was honestly too surprised to think, much less say anything (even though I think sometimes I have a tendency of doing just that, if England's right?). So I sort of just stood there and let the conversations play out. It's not like anything I'd say would make a difference or anything—these people just love hearing the sound of their own voice. I mean, c'mon, we all know a couple people like that, am I right? There are just some people who never shut up! Sheesh!

But anyways.

"Ah, but it is painfully obvious that you are pining for _l'Amerique_, non?" France asked, sounding oddly matter-of-fact. Not that I agreed with him, of course. I don't think there'd be anything that could convince me of that—not even hamburgers.

Though technically I'd believe it even less if hamburgers are involved. I mean, okay, sometimes I might eat like one or two and maybe it'll sort of cross my mind that it's sort of depressing how no one would want to be in a relationship with me. And maybe England's name is sort of included in that list, and fine—maybe, just maybe, I'll get some mustard or whatever in my eye and cry a little. But it's not because no one—England included—wants me. Except it might be, just a little, maybe?

…That sounds _way_ more depressing that it actually is, I swear.

"I was simply making a statement, _Angleterre_," France said with his typical lewd grin. "Clearly you only got so riled at this because it is true and you don't want to admit it, _oui_?"

England just sort of sputtered some more. It would have been funny if I wasn't sort of feeling my heart stop right then, because what if France was making sense? 'Cause technically, okay, I might have a thing for England. Just a little one, though, y'know, but if he was doing the same as me, then…

"You're an idiot if you honestly think I'd ever like a git like that even as an acquaintance. I don't care about him in the slightest," England suddenly snapped, but his passive face was back on, and he looked totally unaffected by what France-y-pants was saying.

I felt oddly disappointed.

Ah, well. There went that theory. Not like I was really hoping for it anyways, y'know, I was just totally thinking that maybe it wouldn't be so bad? Yeah. That was all.

But of course things had to be screwed up again because Italy felt the need to comment.

"Ehh… But didn't you used to love him more than anything? How can that change to hate?" he asked, not bothering to open his eyes. (Seriously, how did he function with such limited vision?)

"W-Wanker…" England muttered. "I never said I hated him, just that I wouldn't ever like him!"

I guess I was sort of surprised at his answer. But I sort of felt disappointed, maybe. Because if you hate someone, at least you think about them enough to have a strong feeling for them, even if it's bad. But if you don't care about them at all, then it meant I was absolutely nothing to him, and…

Nevermind, it's not like I wanted him to acknowledge me or anything anyways. Totally good here, no need for changes or whatever, and it's not like I need his approval or friendship anyways.

I guess Italy sort of agreed with my first point though, because he almost immediately said, "Veh? But isn't ignoring someone worse than hating them and letting them know…? Besides, you guys spend so much time together. It's really sad that you wouldn't care for him after all this time…"

"Oh, like that git needs a more swelled ego than he already has," England said, offhandedly as usual.

"STOP TALKING ABOUT ME LIKE I'M NOT EVEN HERE!" I shouted before I could stop myself. There was this weird feeling in my throat, though, and some kind of freaky heat behind my eyes. Maybe I was developing laser vision or something? I dunno, it sort of felt like I was crying, but obviously that was just the laser vision's cooling system, right? I totally wasn't crying.

But England didn't appear to understand my newfound dormant superpower. "Are—Are you crying?" he asked, and it was totally a stupid question because I _wasn't_ crying, obviously.

Except everyone started following under the same delusion because the meeting room got really quiet, and then really loud.

France and Italy both started yelling at England—and I honestly couldn't hear the half of what they were saying, aside from the occasional Italian or French word or, even more frequently, an English curse word. I sort of hate how I know so many English curses, though. It's depressing how often he uses them on me in his lectures.

Not that I care, of course.

So while the three of them are arguing, I glanced up and was maybe a little surprised to see Japan and Lithuania. I mean they don't even really talk to me, except Japan of course, but even he doesn't always seem to have time to visit me very often.

I totally didn't get what they were trying to do when they led me out of the meeting room and into the bathroom, though. I guess I assumed they'd just take me to my car or whatever so I could drive home, but apparently I was supposed to stay for the rest of the meeting. It sucked majorly, especially because they kept asking me what was wrong and if I was sure I didn't want to talk to England for a bit.

I totally hated that question the most. I mean, obviously I didn't want to see England. He was a total jerk and I'd be completely alright with it if I never saw him again. And I don't care if someone would write that on my fricking _tombstone_, I was totally done with him.

Except maybe there was some part of me that didn't _really_ mind what happened next.

"Do you want me to talk to him for you?" Lithuania asked, his voice just as polite as always.

I totally wanted to say no, but unfortunately what came out was, "Sure, whatever, not like I care."

And naturally Lithuania just gave Japan this _look_. And while they were making eyes at eachother or whatever—I don't even know what that phrase means, by the way, and I totally didn't ask France a while ago or anything just to have him laugh in my face—something grabbed my shoulder.

I didn't panic, of course, but shoulder-grabber seemed to think I was.

"Calm down, eh?" he said, and I had the sudden suspicion that I'd seen this guy before…

"Why should I calm down," I asked, except I didn't really ask, since my voice didn't go up at the end like it's supposed to when you're asking a question. "England's being mean again. Jerk."

"Don't sulk, I'm sure he'll realize how impolite he's being and fix things between you two…"

I scrunched up my nose and cheeks in my best 'you did not just say what I think you just said' face. "That sounds like really gay when you say it like that."

The person I was talking to just sighed. "Nevermind then. Have a nice day."

And then Japan and Lithuania appeared from like nowhere.

"Who were you tarking to?" Japan asked.

"I was talking to someone?" I asked. Totally news to me. Come to think of it, I couldn't remember much of the last few minutes…

"That is odd," Lithuania said, frowning. And I agreed. But frankly at the moment I cared about, like, three things: Hamburgers, ice cream and watching Marvel Comic movies. Ain't no one ever stayed in a bad movie while watching the Avengers, I'll have you know. And Ice cream and Hamburgers make everything better, so if you think I totally just hide away and eat crap instead of dealing with things, you have another thing coming. I'm clearly watching to take notes on the fantastic actiony-slash-heroic moves that everyone pulls off like every three seconds.

And then Japan took away my glasses and used a wet paper towel to wipe away at something under my eyes. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he thought I was crying or something. Silly Japan, heroes don't do stupid, sissy things like that. They're manly. And stuff. And even if they did, chicks think crying every once in a while is manly so I am obviously not gay, as I am a chick magnet, thanks very much—

"But of course, America-san. You are just as hetero-sexurar as the rest of us," Japan said, with this weird, like, amused smile on his face.

Crap, had I said that out loud? How much had he heard?

And. Wait. _Waaaait_, didn't, like, half of the nations randomly hook up with eachother every few weeks? And weren't like eighty percent of us guys…?

"Hey!" I shouted, since it was totally obvious that I was being insulted. "So you're agreeing with France, huh?! You think England and I are like…" And I made a probably not-so-appropriate handsign that made Lithuania blush and Japan look oddly twitchy. But it got the job done and I didn't have to say it, so whatevz.

No one actually replied, though, so I'm pretty sure they really did think that.

Jerks, trying to pair me up with someone like England.

Without my consent.

Like they actually thought we'd be good together or something like that. I mean, seriously, he's just like Romano. And I'm totally Spain, and look how much those two hate eachother! Ugh, I hate it when people think that just because two people have a slightly closer than normal love-hate relationship, it means they're dating.

…Wait.

Spain and Romano got together last year.

I'm screwed. Maybe literally. Or figuratively. Whichever one is the innuendo.


	2. But I'm starting to think

So three hours later I'm at my house 'cause someone finally had the good sense to let me go home. Seriously, nothing gets done there anyways so it's totally stupid for me to have gone anyways.

But yeah. Everyone sort of left, which I didn't mind at all. I mean, seriously, who needs people to try to cheer you up when you're down when you have awesome action movies to watch?! I mean, okay, it would have been totally awesome to have someone to get me an extra blanket when I finally started to feel super cold from a ton of ice cream, but I'm okay doing that myself, y'know?

And…

You know what, Nevermind. Okay, yeah, maybe I wished someone would have offered to stay. Or that someone would've offered to do something more than just take notes for me or whatever.

But they have their own lives and it would be totally bogus of me to try to make them stay when they should've been getting back anyways. Still, it was sort of crappy seeing everyone leave. Oddly enough I remember this third guy leaving, too, but I'm pretty sure it was just Lithuania and Japan coming with? Huh. Maybe the hamburgers really have clogged the blood-flow to my brain? I mean, if I'm seeing things… Wait, nevermind, England sees things too and he's not crazy. Most of the time. He's only not crazy when he tries to pet the air… the fairies I can believe. I mean, I've totally seen Tinker Bell!

And then I realize that I'm actually thinking about England so I stopped, carefully refocusing back on the movie.

Oh, f-yeah! Iron Man just totally saved Cap's ass even though Captain Me (get it? haha) couldn't even do his job!

I mean, okay, I sort of really liked the Cap's movie, buuuut… Uh, for some reason he and Peggy's relationship made me uncomfortable?

I dunno, it feels like there's something I forgot about. That and Peggy reminds me waaaaay too much of someone else I know. Just wish I knew who.

…

Alright, who'm I kidding, I know very well that she reminds me a ton of England. I mean they even have the same accent and everything! And the same temper… and the same jealousy thing (because of that whole situation with Japan a couple years ago)… and the same willingness to shoot me…

It totally sucks, 'cause at least the Cap and his girl got together in the end. Me? I'm stuck in the 'not-even-acquaintance' zone. Ugh.

But, there's never been a bad mood that a Marvel movie (or before the movie, the comics) couldn't shake, and although I got a bit distracted here and there, it really is making me feel better. Sort of. Maybe it's mainly the ice cream. I don't know.

But yeah, so I felt a little better after the movie finished. Maybe 'cause it was because all the heroes were getting along or something? Whatevz, it was probably just because everyone survived. Except Coulson, of course, but if I get started ranting on that it'll probably take me days to cool down.

Anyways.

So the movie's over and my ice cream is all gone and I have like every blanket in my house piled on top of me because it's awesome and warm. It's only natural that I fall asleep while the credits roll, right?

Right.

So while I'm sleeping I hear a door open and… Wait, sorry, that sounds weird. I was asleep until the front door opened, so I'm just like, who the heck opened the door, and more importantly how? Japan said he'd locked it but maybe that weird little smile he had on his face meant something else? Ugh. If so, I've really gotta get better friends. I hear Prussia's sort of nice if you get to know him…

But yeah, anyways.

The door opens and wakes me up and I sort of panicked—just sort of, it's not like I jumped and fell on the floor or anything. Well, not _really_, anyways. A couple blankets were dislodged is all.

But, uh. Yeah.

I looked over to the door and, lo and behold, it isn't Japan or Lithuania or even that guy that lives north of me that sometimes drops by (and swears I _invited_ him no less than two hours ago). It isn't even France or Russia or someone equally likely to break into someone's house.

It's England.

So I stared up at him—not from the floor, of course, just from the couch—and ask, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, just came by to ensure that you weren't making too big a fool of yourself," England said offhandedly, walking forward until he could sit on the couch. "May I?" And I stared some more and finally he had the nerve to look embarrassed. "Dreadfully sorry about that whole misunderstanding back there, you know how people can misinterpret things—"

I snorted. "Riiiiiight. Last I checked 'I don't even consider him an acquaintance,' wasn't exactly interchangeable with anything nice, thanks _very_ much for that lovely boost." And then I realized what I'd said and went quiet for a while. I totally wasn't going to reply to anything else he said. That's final.

"Well, all the same, I, ah…" And England looked so awkward with everything it was kind of pathetic. I felt some sick sense of pleasure, seeing him feeling as crummy as I felt. "Well, I'd like to ask you someth—"

I didn't let him finish that sentence. "Hahaha, have you seen Captain America by the way? Totally random question but I totally want to watch it right now and, oh, hey, how convenient," I emphasized, "It's right here, totally ready to play. That's great, isn't it, well, I guess I should go put it in, feel free to stay if you really have to but I want peace and quiet for the duration of the film, thanks a ton!"

He looked absolutely dumb-struck and I thought it served him right. Besides, it wasn't like I was totally avoiding the question. If he really wanted to ask, he'd ask, right? Right.

It was a matter of seconds before the movie was playing (I fortunately was able to skip the credits and everything; huzzah for technological advancements, am I right or am I right). England looked a bit nervous and I really didn't know why.

Ah, well. I had Captain America to dull my senses. Y'know, until it ended. Then he'd be free to ask whatever it was he'd wanted to ask, and I'd be forced to actually talk to him…

Damn.

I hadn't thought it out at all, had I?

Still, by the time I realized it, Steve Rogers had already started flirting with Peggy, when they were in the car. For some odd reason I felt really awkward, as England was sitting _right_ next to me as Captain Me flirted with England's fictional female double.

I was, like, _this_ close from breaking into a cold sweat.

And then England apparently noticed me staring at him.

I looked away as quickly as physically possible. As in, if the Flash would be jealous of my head-turning skills. Seriously. It was so quick that England probably didn't even see it, therefore making it _not_ suspicious, unlike what most people would assume—

"Why were you staring at me like that? Is there something in my teeth?"

—Shizbuckets. He noticed.

I laughed, trying not to sound super nervous or embarrassed or whatever the hell I was. "Uh, no, you must've been imagining things. I wasn't looking at you at all." At his incredulous look, I added, "I was looking at the kitchen." And I thanked my lucky stars (all fifty of 'em!) that the kitchen really _was_ on that side of him.

"Tch. I can't believe you're hungry," England scoffed, picking up the empty ice cream container that was resting on the ground. I fiddled absently with the blankets, willing the insult not to mean anything. (Y'know, sort of like I always do, right?) "I can make you something, though, if you'd like…"

"Your cooking?" I asked, forcing up my normal laugh. It made my chest hurt, for some odd reason. And my throat. I talked around the lump, though, since that's just what heroes do. "As if I'd want something like that! Who'd want something burnt so badly?"

I don't really know why, but I felt bad. I mean, he was only trying to help and all, and heroes weren't known for making fun of people… But England totally had it coming. Even though he totally didn't know how crappy he'd made my day by saying _that_ in the meeting.

England looked a little disappointed but composed himself pretty quickly. "I see. Well, if you're going to be such an ungrateful brat about it, I'll just order something then."

I couldn't help it—I reached out and checked if he had a temperature. England looked at me like I'd grown a second head or something.

"What are you doing?" he asked, swatting my hand away.

"You're acting, like, nice. Are you sure you're okay, dude?"

He frowned, and I suddenly realized that that wasn't exactly a good thing to say. But to hell with logic, I was America and I would do as I pleased, thanks.

"I'm fine, thanks, and I'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't act like me being nice is such a rare thing," England griped, looking away with a glare. Crap, he looked pissed.

"Yeah, well, we don't all get what we want. But hey, if it's pizza and you're buying, I'll be the nicest person you've ever met for the next three hours," I said with a grin. Things felt oddly normal, all of a sudden. Even though he was mad at me, at least he was totally acknowledging me, right? And that meant he wasn't ignoring me, and that meant he actually cared enough to talk to me, even if it was insults!

…Why do things like that always sound so much more depressing when I actually put it into words…

But anyways. "Fine. But only because you were crying," England replied, smirking.

Welp. Couldn't quite deny that one, since apparently everyone was suffering from the same delusion that day. And if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. "For your information, my awesomeness became too much for my body to handle, so it started leaking out of my eyes."

"Ugh, you need to stop hanging out with Prussia and Denmark. That word is disgusting." He shook his head at me, like we were really so pitiful for finally finding a word to describe ourselves.

"You made it, so how disgusting could it be?"

England just rolled his eyes and got up, walking over to the television set. I started to get up to follow him, but he shook his head. "No, you may as well just stay there in that ridiculous 'nest' of yours. Goodness knows how many times you've yelled at me for having to remake it after you got up."

I nodded, curling even further into the blankets. They were warm, okay? And as warm is never, ever a bad thing, I regret nothing. By the time England had finished calling, the only thing actually sticking out from the pile of blankets was my head, and even then part of the back had been covered by a pseudo-hood. It was cozy, though. Like wearing a hug or some fruity analogy like that.

"Idiot," England muttered when he'd finally put down the phone. Apparently the pizza guy had given him a hard time because of his accent. And then he noticed me. "Hiding in a blanket, huh? I wasn't aware that fake Italian food was so frightening to you."

"Shut up, I'm cold," I muttered. Obviously I was faking anger, but that's just what we do around eachother, I guess, since I know he's not always angry. Even if he is sort of pissy most times.

For some reason England was quiet for a while. Finally I poked my head out from the blankets, because, seriously, England being quiet? It just doesn't happen. Ever.

He looked super nervous, and I really didn't know why. Like, he was full on blushing and everything. And when he noticed me looking at him, his face turned, not even joking, _Romano_-Red.

I laughed. "Dude, what is your problem today? First you're nice, then you're blushing? Dude, I've gotta tell France about this!"

"Please refrain from doing so," England said, rolling his eyes. I pouted—er, _didn't pout_, didn't pout at _all_. "France is only going to grope you, then me, then try to do the same with the rest of us ex-Allies."

"Why the ex?" I asked. "Don't we all still get along?"

"Says the person who had a Cold War with Russia and is still bitter about China being communist…?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Crap, he was pulling that whole condescending thing again. This will not be tolerated!

"Pfffft, I don't have anything against Communists!" I said, trying to play it cool. "Y'know, so long as they stop being Communist when presented with a Capitalistic opportunity!"

England gave me a very long look—the same one he gave me whenever we were discussing open-mindedness. I shut up fairly quickly. "America, you're an idiot."

I glared at him.

He just rolled his eyes for like, the thousandth time that night. So I stuck my tongue out at him, too.

"Oh, that's very mature, thank you for that."

And like the good responsible country I am, I threw a pillow at him. It hit him in the head. It sort of felt good. I made a mental note to do it more often.

"YOU WANKER, WHO TOLD YOU IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO DO THAT?!" England shouted, looking oddly upset. I mean, it was just a pillow…

But then I noticed something black on the floor around him. It looked like wires. And an earpiece. He flushed bright red and picked it up, putting it back into his ear.

I couldn't help myself. "Wait, you seriously have a hearing aid? I was just joking all those times, but okay, old man, carry on!" I laughed, typical hero-style, but he only got madder.

"I MOST CERTAINLY DO NOT HAVE A HEARING AIDE, YOU GIT, AND CALL ME AN OLD MAN ONE MORE TIME AND I'LL KILL YOU—" he shouted, but suddenly cut himself off, then talking in a much more reasonable volume. "Erm, I mean to say… ah… yes, this is a hearing aid. And there is nothing suspicious about what I am saying right now and…"

"Uhmmmm…" I scratched the back of my head. It was pretty awkward seeing him act like that, really. "You do know that saying it's not suspicious automatically makes it suspicious, right?"

"I… What was that?" England asked, but it didn't look like he was asking me. "No, you have to speak up, I can't hear a word you're saying…!"

"Hello?"

England whirled around, glanced at me, glanced at the wire coming out of his pocket… and then he totally lost it. "You know what, Japan?" he asked, pulling the wire out of his pocket, then the earpiece out of his ear. "Screw it. I'm telling him on my own time."

And meanwhile I was just sort of asking "WTF" in my head, but whatever.

Because, hey, guess what?

England threw the microphone on the ground and just _stomped_ on it. Like, legitimate crunching with his toes and everything. It was sort of bad-ass.

But he sort of seemed to be getting too carried away and I felt the need to remind him of my glorious presence—wrapped up in a blanket or no. "Uhm, in case you've forgotten, I'm _riiiiight_ here…"

He glanced up, sort of startled, and flushed a lovely shade of red. "A—Ah, pardon me, America, I don't know what came over me."

And he had this sort of pathetic 'deer in headlights' sort of expression, so how could I not pity him? "Aw, c'mere. I'm sure it's nothing your gay pet unicorn and/or a bowl of popcorn won't fix."

"Right, gay…" he mumbled. I totally pretended not to hear, as I was thinking the same thing.

And it was right about then that I realized the movie was still playing.

How we managed to do all that without looking up at the screen once was sort of a miracle, but whatever. I guess that's just what happens when England's over at my place and he's paying attention to me… And—oh, hey, Steve was getting jealous of Peggy's possible 'fonduing'. Great. Just what I needed, a pseudo-love scene based on jealousy and/or someone getting agitated that they weren't being paid enough attention to, I mean come on, who wants to watch something like that—

While I was mulling it all over, I apparently missed the part where England sat on the couch with me and started leaning in reeeeeally close to my face.

"Uh can I help you…?" I asked. Unfortunately it sort of came out as a squeak. Due to dust inhalation. Of course. I obviously wouldn't squeak just because someone kind of totally looked like they were about to kiss me.

England looked like he was about to choke, his face was so red. But something told me it wasn't because he was actually choking…

Before I could figure out what the hell he was trying to do, leaning in so close, he kissed me.

As in, lip-to-lip, awkward as _anything_, totally desperate, but… Well, besides everything, it was… kind of sweet. Like, ice-cream sweet. It took me a minute to remember that I was supposed to kiss back. Unfortunately I really didn't have any idea how to do that, so I think I sort of failed. But whatever, it's not like England was any good at it either.

Three really, really loud gunshots from the movie startled us though. I actually ended up falling off the couch. Because of England, of course. He totally jumped at it.

"You wanker, what was that for?" England snapped, rubbing his head from where he'd fallen on the ground. "Warn me if you're going to jerk suddenly like that… Agh, this is going to knot…"

"You're one to talk about warning!" I shouted, willing away the red in my cheeks. But hey, you'd blush too if you suddenly had a really hot British guy that you'd like for forever suddenly kiss you. Seriously, it'd be weird if I didn't blush. "What the heck, man, tell me if you want to kiss me!"

He flushed a brighter red then me, though, and started stuttering and everything. It was actually really cute. I wanted to hug him. He's just so cuuuute!

"You didn't seem to be complaining about it when we were still k-kissing," England muttered.

I tilted my head to the side. "Well, yeah. Who'm I to refuse a kiss from someone super awesome? But yeah, seriously, next time some warning would be great, maybe then I'll actually know what to do…"

He looked oddly disappointed. Totally wish I knew why—ugh, he never tells me anything, you know?!

"W-Well, if your only criteria for a kissing mate is 'awesomeness', I suppose you and Prussia must get along quite well," he yelled, completely out of the blue.

And I was just like, …uh, what?

"What?"

(SEE? TOLD YA!)

"You heard me," England griped (that's such a fun word). "Look, if you're not interested in me, then just say so! Don't make me think you actually care when I don't mean anything to you—"

"BUT YOU'RE DOING THE SAME THING TO ME!"

And suddenly he looked totally shocked. "…What?"

"But, why are you even mad at me anyways, I kissed back, didn't I?" I asked, scrunching my eyebrows together. And even though I'll totally never have as… majestic… eyebrows as England, I think my scrunchy face is pretty impressive. "And you know me—I don't kiss unless I'm totally interested!"

"I've never heard of such a policy," England scoffed. "Besides, since when do I do that to you, anyways?"

"Gee, I dunno, _today_?" I snapped, feeling totally out of character. I mean, seriously—I'm America. Totally not supposed to get angry. But I'd totally had it. Seriously, he doesn't know me one minute, hates me the next, and suddenly he's my best friend again, and then, out of the blue, he kisses me. Seriously, guy, pick a side and stick to it. "You basically said you didn't care about me at all in front of everyone, when like a week ago I thought we were like besties!"

"I was angry with you for constantly friend-zoning me, you ass!" England yelled, right back at me.

"Wait, what are you even talking about?"

"All those times when you say things like, 'oh, friends don't mess with friends,' or 'bud,' or 'hey there, my bestest friend ever, you should totally pass me that marker,' or… or…" He suddenly trailed off. "God, you can't seem to figure out what you want, can you?"

"Uhhh, I call everyone 'dude'…" I said slowly, not really sure where he was going with this.

"I'M SUPPOED TO BE SPECIAL YOU BLOODY WANKER!"

And, yeah, here's where I start to get confused.

So, you, the reader, might be sort of confused too, since you're only reading my thoughts and all, and obviously I'm confused.

So here's the low-down, my good readers.

1) Meeting room incident; we're having a totally okay-ish conversation and suddenly he gets mad at something totally random. Check.

2) We argue for a while. Then he says he basically wants nothing to do with me and that I mean absolutely nothing to him. Check.

3) Uh, I get a little mad, too, and I go to the bathroom to… uh, cool down, is all. I don't cry obviously. But still. Check.

4) I go home and watch an awesome movie and eat ice cream like a boss. Check.

5) England barges in and suddenly starts being weirdly nice. And is wearing a microphone for some odd reason, but whatevz, I'll ask later. Check.

6) I go back to watching the movie for like two seconds and suddenly England's like right on top of me and kissing me. Check.

7) We start arguing.

And right about here is where I started not knowing what's going on.

"So… uhm…" I finally ask, scratching the back of my head. "What are we arguing about?"

England raised his finger like he was about to lecture me on hard-mode, but when he opens his mouth, no sound comes out. He tries a couple more times, and nothing. Finally he puts his finger down and admits, "…I don't even know. I was just irritated with you for friend-zoning me, and how you didn't even seem to care that I'd just kissed you…"

I tilted my head to the side again. "But… I never friend-zoned you… Most of those times I was just glad that you weren't yelling at me!"

"Oh please, like I really yell at you that often," he scoffed.

I frowned—_not_ pouted—at him. "You totally do. But seriously, if I didn't care, why would we be having this conversation?!"

"BECAUSE YOU STILL HAVEN'T TOLD ME WHETHER OR NOT YOU RETURN MY AFFECTIONS, YOU NUMBSKULL!"

There was a momentary pause and my mind went totally blank. It took me a minute to figure out that, oh yeah, I was supposed to say something here, and apparently that minute took too long.

"As I thought," England said with a frown. "You obviously don't feel the same and see me as nothing more than yet another admirer. Good day."

He turned to go, but like the hero I am, I managed to catch his wrist and spin him around. "Now wait just a second, dude. Who said anything about me not likin' you like that?"

"You still haven't, thanks very much," England griped, but I'd finally had enough.

"Yeah, well, technically _you_ haven't said anything yet, either. All you did was kiss me," I pointed out, feeling oddly matter-of-fact. "So if I do this, we'll technically be even and you'll have absolutely no reason to doubt me."

And, as the hero, I did my best for a dip-kiss, but… well, okay, you know that microphone England had trashed earlier? Well, I managed to slip on it. Sooo… we sort of crashed to the floor, totally unromantically. But that was okay—nothing we'd done so far was even remotely romantic. Like, at all. So it's not like we were ruining the mood or anything. Heh. Uh, but yeeeeahhh… I sort of landed on top of him. It was probably a good thing that we hadn't managed to lock lips before then though, otherwise I probably would have accidentally eaten his face.

And seriously, if we'd had a mood to begin with, that would have ruined it right there.

But yeah. Uh, not so good in the romance category either way…

England squirmed, sort of fruitlessly. He looked like he'd just had the wind knocked right out of him. I would have felt worse if I wasn't feeling the exact same way.

"You're… really heavy…" he complained once he got his voice back. "D-Do you think—_wheeze_—you could get off of me…?"

It took me a second but I managed to flip over off of him. I'd gotten my voice back by then, too, thank God. Seriously, I missed talking. "Ughh… next time… next time you destroy a good piece of equipment… throw it in the trash…"

"Wanker," England grumbled.

"I still need to kiss you though."

"Then do."

And, well, I guess it was my cue. Fortunately this time we were already on the ground so we didn't fall. However the kiss itself wasn't, uh, great, I don't think. Are peoples' teeth supposed to click? I mean, his weird stereotypical British teeth were obviously going to be a problem, as my kissing was stupendous (and don't let anyone tell you otherwise, 'kay?), but seriously, we bumped noses, too.

But, you know?

Even if it wasn't Hollywood-style—and believe me, I know my Hollywood—it was still… nice. I liked it. When we finally decided that we'd had enough, we broke apart, and I really couldn't help but keep glancing towards his eyes.

England really does have pretty eyes, you know?

…ACK, CRAP, CRAP, I'M NOT THINKING THAT. NO. BAD AMERICA. YOU WILL NOT CONSIDER ANYONE'S EYES PRETTY, EVEN IF THEY DO HAVE A BAJILLION DIFFERENT SPECKS OF GREEN FLOATING AROUND IN MORE GREEN. NO, BAD. BAAAAAAAD.

And while I'm having my mini-freak-out, England just sort of stares at me, making it even harder for me to not look at his totally not-gorgeous eyes. Bad England, for tempting a person like that.

"What are you doing?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh—I'm, y'know, like… uhm…" And of course my words failed me when I needed them. And I'm usually so insanely articulate. This was like a tragedy. Not even kidding.

But yeah. Anyways.

So England just bursted out laughing. I totally didn't pout and waited completely calmly for him to start breathing and, even better, _talking_ again. "You—You should have seen yourself, you sounded like a teenage girl there for—for a minute, honestly America, what are you, f-f-fourteen?" And of course he fell into giggles again.

Okay, _this time_ I pouted.

"Dude! Totally not cool, you can't just poke at someone's feelings like that!"

"You know I'm only teasing, love," England said after he'd calmed down. And then, naturally, he yawns because that's just England, right? Randomly shifting from one thing to another, I guess. Either he's going from super-angry with me to super-randomly-happy, or, like now, going from laughing or just being really happy and goofy (as much as he'll never admit it, ever), to being tired or grumpy.

But there's just something… nice, about the way he unabashedly laid his head down on my chest. Except it felt totally awkward since, I mean, it's _England_.

"Uh, you're not drunk, right?" I asked, poking his cheek.

"Idiot," he grumbled. "Either sleep with me or move me to the couch. I'm not getting up right now."

"Sleep with you?" And I really couldn't help but grin, even though I felt like a total dork. "Isn't that moving a little fast, Iggy?"

I don't know whether it was the nickname or the comment in general, but he got up _fast_.

"WANKER! OF ALL THE TIMES TO READ TOO FAR INTO PEOPLES WORDS!" he shouted.

Because that was just England. Changing moods like… well, okay, the only examples I can think of are sexist and sort of rude. ('Cause who knows, a chick might be reading this diary entry, to which I say: Mexico, gtfo of my stuff. I love you, sis, you know I do, but I'm not okay with letting you keep sneaking into my house. This is why they stopped letting you into Arizona.) But you catch my drift about England's moodiness, right?

Anyways.

I poked him in the cheek again, and he got huffy. It was cute. Er, you know, it would be if I thought that he was cute. …Wait, I'm dating him, denying that would be useless. …WAIT. Am I dating him?!

"Hey, Iggy~?" I asked in my sweetest, 'don't deny me anything in the world, okay?' voice. "What am I supposed to call you now?"

"Anything other than Iggy or Artie," England groused.

I pouted—er, _didn't_ pout. "That's not what I meant! Are we boyfriends or 'lovers' or that thing France usually says he has, benefits with friends? Something like that. Or…"

He looked a little disconcerted at the last phrase, but whatever. "Whichever you'd like, love. Except for the last. That one only applies to people who are friends but, ah, exchange in… very intimate… gestures nonetheless."

"But aren't we friends who kiss and whatever?" I asked, scrunching my eyebrows together.

"Friends with Benefits have no romantic desire for eachother, and they do worse than just kiss," he explained, sounding very much like he wanted to change the subject. Which was naturally my cue to push it harder and get as much information out of him as possible.

"Waaait… you seem to know an awful lot about this 'friends with benefits' thing…"

"We are not having this conversation, I am going to sleep," he said quickly, re-flopping onto my chest and promptly 'falling asleep'.

Yeah, if you really think I'm dim enough to fall for that you have another thing coming, Iggs. Except this is a mental ramble-slash-narration and, uh, unless you can read my mind you have nothin' on my plans.

However in the case of mind-reading I should probably figure out a harder combination for that lock I have on all of those… uh, _things_, that Japan sends me. NotthatI_read_them,whydoyouask?

"Heeeeeeey. England. Psst, England. Iggy! Iggs, Artie-Mc-Smarty-Pants, Mr. Punk-Attempt! Hey! Lonely Island! PSSSST. England. ENGLAND!" I shouted, poking his cheeks, nose and forehead at random. "HEY. You should really pay attention to me, Land-of-Engs. Or Angles? Whatever it is that France calls you." England didn't even move at the mention of his rival's name, though maybe that random flinch was his way of venting… "Really, dude? Not even gonna get up to yell at me for mentioning France here?"

There was another quasi-flinch. I grinned.

"Welp, if you're just gonna ignore me, I guess I'll just go to sleep. Y'know, without a goodnight kiss. Or a hug. Or an apology for what you said at the meeting…" And, okay, that last bit was a little below the belt, but whatever. When you play the guilt card, you gotta play it to the fullest. And I'm not just talking puppy-eyes. I'm talking the 'oh my god, you just murdered seven people and kicked my puppy' look. Yeah. You gotta go _all_ out if you want England to do something nice for you.

"Bloody hell, _fine_!" he finally snapped. "You have my sincerest apologies and I'll explain why I did what I did in the morning. Now are you going to belt up or shall I have to put masking tape over your mouth?"

I grinned and tried to give him an eskimo kiss. It didn't work very well though, and although we bumped noses, it didn't seem to work the right way.

Damn, why did we always manage to screw up this type of stuff?!

"Give me warning next time!" England shouted, holding his nose. Fortunately it wasn't gushing blood, nor was mine, but still. It sort of sucked.

"Sorry! I was tryin' to… y'know…" And even though technically it would be pretty stupid to get embarrassed about the gayness of the situation (especially after we'd already kissed…), I couldn't quite help it. Or maybe I was just flustered 'cause he was cute.

Anyways, England sort of looked like he wanted to ask what the 'y'know' meant, but apparently he gave up, which was totally cool with me. "Whatever," he said, physically waving it off. "And now if you'll please excuse me, I'd like to go to sleep. For real this time."

"Yeah, sorry," I said, still feeling bad about smashing our noses together. "Guest room's where it always is. Help yourself."

He gave me this really long look, and I really didn't know what he was getting at. But I guess he decided against saying what was on his mind, because finally he gave up and just walked into the guest room.

It felt sort of weird to see him go after so long, but whatever.

I went up to my own room, because, seriously—it'd been a _long_ day, and I was tired. I'd have to ask him about all the details tomorrow.

* * *

**Okay seriously sorry about the super long chapter and all, but I just couldn't find out how to end it quicker or break it in half and have it still flow right. **

**Anyways, review, please? I spent like forever on this... And I promise the next (and last) chapter is going to be shorter. Unless it's longer. In which case, gomen. I'm afraid I'm not much good at summarizing things. AND I PROMISE I'LL MAKE THE TITLE/DESCRIPTION MAKE SENSE BY THEN OKAY. Okay. **

**So yeah, please review? America will give you cookies! But only virtual ones. Y'know, the ones you can delete if someone walks in and asks why you're reading fanfiction. **

**Until next time!**


	3. This wasn't such a bad idea after all

Somehow I managed not to get, like, any sleep. Even though I tossed and turned and cuddled with that stupid giant teddy bear that Canada gave me a few years ago, I still managed to not fall asleep. It probably didn't help that I'd just realized that the 'specially-made' teddy bear was actually made to look like England. I really should've picked up on why those eyebrows were so big…

But yeah, I'd feel like an idiot later. Right then all I really wanted to do was sleep.

So naturally that's when it's the Universe's cue for a knock on the door.

I stumbled out of bed and threw on a shirt, not bothering to change out of my pajama pants. After all, comic book characters are totally cool for an American to wear, right? But yeah, anyways. So, I walk downstairs and somehow manage to not trip and fall. It's, like, a miracle, judging by the rest of the day's coordination, am I right?

When I finally got to the bottom of the stairs and opened the door, I was understandably less than impressed when I saw the pizza guy. Finally. England only called him, what, an hour or two ago? Geez. Talk about service…

"How much?" I asked, frowning. I wasn't exactly sure whether or not I had money, y'know? But apparently it didn't matter because the pizza guy just said "It's on the house, since it's late" and thrust the pizza into my hands before putting his hands in his pockets and storming away.

I closed the door, a little confused at the familiar accent (seriously—was that guy the human reincarnation of Romano?) and waked into the kitchen to set the pizza box down, picking up a slice as I'd forgotten that I hadn't eaten yet.

But—get this, England suddenly opens his door and walks out, rubbing his eyes and carrying his blanket behind him. I had the sudden urge to ruffle his hair like he was five or something, but I ignored it because reasons.

"Who was that?" he asked with a yawn, re-wrapping the blanket around his shoulders.

"Pizza guy," I said, waving the pizza slice in my hand.

"Finally showed up, did he?" England raised an eyebrow. Not really sure how he managed, though. Seriously, those things look _heavy_.

I nodded, taking a bite of pizza. For some reason, England looked weirded out.

"How can you eat at such a late hour?"

Like I said—for _some_ _reason_. Seriously, what is it with him and those types of questions? Asking me why I eat late, the jerk. If the pizza guy had come earlier, I'd have eaten earlier. Simple as that. But instead of saying any of that, I just asked, "D'you want some?"

He made a disgusted face. I took it as a no and helped myself to another piece.

And of course he made another disgusted face so that obviously meant I had to have more. Finally he yanked the piece out of my hand and held it out of my reach. I glared up at him.

"Idiot," he grumbled. "Haven't you done this enough by now to know that you'll have weird dreams if you have too much pizza before bed?"

I just rolled my eyes and reached for a different slice. Sadly, he closed the box before I could get any. No pizza for me, I guess, since I was totally wiped and didn't want to have to fight for my food anymore. Stupid England, taking advantage of my sleepiness like that.

Still, I felt… weirdly okay with it.

So what happened next didn't exactly feel abnormal, either. But it still felt out of place, maybe? I don't really know—it just felt… something.

I reached out, grabbed him (sort-of-gently, I guess) around the waist and pulled him closer. "Yeah, well, if I have a nightmare then I can just sleep with you, right?"

He flushed bright red and pretended to smack me upside the head. I say pretend because if he'd wanted to, he would have done it way harder. Seriously, it didn't even hurt, and that's the thing with England, I think—if he wants you hurt, he'll hurt you. But… the people he cares about? He protects them.

And there was this weird rush of affection, even while he was still pretending to be angry. I just hugged him closer and sort of buried my head in his shirt.

It felt… really good to be around him. And that's really all I knew right then, to be honest. Like, I wanted to be a better person for him. Someone he'd be… happy with? Proud of? Or… or at least, less disappointed in. I don't even really know—I just wanted him to want to be with me as much as I'd always wanted to be with him, and have him happy the whole time.

England turned, just slightly, and I could tell he was a little surprised. But he just sort of ran his fingers through my hair a little and whispered, "Is something the matter, love?"

And everything felt perfect, just for a second.

So naturally that's fate's cue to screw everything up. But you know something?

I really didn't care how much we were, like, destined to fight and argue and disagree over stupid, petty things. I just wanted to stay with him anyways—to piss him off less often than I made him smile, and to make him want to laugh no matter what, even if it was at me, and not necessarily with me.

Alright, so here we are, at the beginning of the story. You remember how I said all of this happened yesterday, right? So, well, technically writing this out just after midnight might be a little cheap, but whatever—it still happened yesterday, and yesterday was… a really, really big mix of things.

Anyways, after he finally surrendered the pizza slice he was still holding hostage, we just… talked. It was kind of nice, and cleared a heck of a lot of things up.

Apparently it wasn't a hearing aide that he'd smashed into the floor, but a microphone. Japan had given it to him before the meeting, and he'd just been saying whatever Japan had told him to say. But part of the reason we got into that argument was because Prussia had interfered and, imitating Japan's voice, told him to say some really stupid things. However, the comment that had hurt the most, the 'we're not even acquaintances' comment, really was England's. Apparently he wanted to teach me a lesson about sending mixed signals.

Yeah, well, we both ended up learning from that one.

Anyways, Japan finally regained control, but by then the damage had been done and he had to go with Lithuania and do… uh, whatever it was that they were trying to do.

It was pretty nice of them, I guess, but still. I wish England had been able to just say what he felt on his own, without having to go through all of that trouble. And, technically, he really did end up saying something from himself, not a script, but that was only because the microphone got dislodged anyways and I made fun of him for having a hearing aide, so of course he goes commando and turns into a mercenary Shakespeare or something.

All things considered, it's sort of sweet. Hilarious how we manage to get together after screwing up every other possible option, but yeah. Sort of sweet.

But once we talked everything out, it was really late—like, midnight-late. So we decided to just go to sleep, and… near eachother this time. (Apparently I'd screwed up by going upstairs? Dunno how. I don't really want that kind of relationship yet.)

But yes, I mean just sleep. Seriously, we'd been dating or whatever for maybe three or four hours—it was way too early for any of that French stuff.

But we were both too tired to really attempt to go upstairs to my room or the guest room, so we settled for the couch.

I'm pretty sure we're gonna wake up and be sore or whatever, but… I'm pretty content in the here and now. England's asleep right beside me, and I really hope I'm not waking him up with the light on this journal thing.

Too late—he just shifted and started to open his eyes.

Anyways, I'd better go to sleep. I have a feeling I'll need all the energy I have for tomorrow's activities. After all, England and I are together now. Obviously this is the perfect excuse for someone to take me to that scary movie playing in the theatre! And I'll be able to teach him how to ice-skate (or maybe it's the other way around; I still haven't managed to beat Canada in ice skating yet, so I'd better work on it with the ol' Iggster), and maybe we can go to Disney World next week, or Orlando Studios, or maybe that McDonalds' play-place I've been dying to go to recently.

Or maybe we can just stay inside and watch some Disney or Marvel movies. It's what we've been doing all along, but… maybe with all this new territory, I'd like something familiar.

I really don't know what I want quite yet, but… I have a feeling we'll figure it out together, right?

But England's giving me this glare like I'm an idiot for trying to write this late at night, and I sort of agree with him.

Anyways, I'm tired, too, so, uh, goodnight.

Hero out!

* * *

The moment America closed his journal, he was promptly shoved onto his back by an irate English gentleman. Even as England glared down at him, America still managed to grin back, having the audacity to wave at his new lover (boyfriend? partner?).

"What were you writing for so long?" England asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Eh, y'know, just jotting down another heroic idea," America said with a shrug, quickly tucking the book into a pocket on his shirt.

"Oh?" England looked a bit more interested in the way America hid the book than its contents. "What about? How hamburgers are the cure for the common cold or another theory of how to stop global warming through giant robots?"

There was a short pause. Finally, America just grinned up at him again and pulled England into a kiss. When they pulled apart, the only thing he said was, "Nope. This one actually started out as a really bad idea. But, y'know? With some work, I think I managed to make it work out in the end."

Before England could ask anything more, America winked and pulled him into another kiss.

End.

(Or, in another sense, just the beginning.)

* * *

**I cannot tell you how happy I am to see this completed. As I'm sure my followers know, this is probably the only multi-chaptered fic I've actually finished. So hopefully this will give me the confidence to complete certain other stories, too. **

**And even if I don't reply to every review, please know that they mean the world to me, and a single reviewer got me back into writing after a really long dry-spell. My thanks go out to her. So, yes—reviews really do help, but hey, if you don't feel obligated, don't. **

**Anyways, I just want to thank everyone that has reviewed or even just read this and really liked it. **

**See ya next time!**

**-Sam**


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